


Deep Down

by Nelja-in-English (Nelja)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Breathplay, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Emetophilia, Face-Fucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Religious Content, Sad, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24704740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelja/pseuds/Nelja-in-English
Summary: Hezekiah comes back for Nathaniel, to show him the love of his Gods, as he promised.
Relationships: Nathaniel Beale/Hezekiah Wakeley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 20
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	Deep Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabulous_but_evil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabulous_but_evil/gifts).



Nathaniel feels oppressed in his own house. The rooms are too small, the walls seem malevolent, like they want to eat him. He needs air. No matter how closely he sits to the open window, it's never enough. It seems to rain too often; the air is full of water, trying to drown him.

No one else in his household can feel it. It's not guilt, he tells himself. He has nothing to feel ashamed of. No old friendship could overlook murder with a smile. Maybe it's fear instead, because Hezekiah threatened him. Is this the smell of fear, like suffocation and dust?

He showed the last letter to the police. They told him to be alert and keep his doors closed, that they would notify him if Hezekiah was seen again. And he knows he shouldn't go outside. But he craves fresh air like a thirsty man would crave a glass of water. Like Hezekiah would crave a bottle of gin, at the time, he thinks with a vague unease.

Sleep eludes him as he lies under his too heavy blanket. Finally, he can no longer resist. He puts a coat over his nightshirt and takes a walk on the gravel pathway. It's cold but the sky is clear. He can look at the stars.

They don't save him.

He has only taken a few steps when he falls. It's not even a surprise, more like very slowly slipping on mud, less afraid of pain and more worried about sullying his clothes with sludge. And he knows, for sure, that the earth claimed him. He still has a slight hope that it's not the one from the grave.

But Hezekiah is here, and putting people in graves is what he does. Nathaniel knows that the shadow on the other side of the fence, which he hadn't seen before, is him. He wants to run, to reach the protection of his home again. But the mud has trapped his legs, and each time he tries to move, he sinks deeper.

"Hezekiah," he starts in a weak voice. 

"Hello, Nathaniel."

"What do you want?"

"Didn't I tell you? I want to show you my love, and the love of the Buried. Come and join me."

Nathaniel tries again to run, but he can't. He wants to explain that he can't move, but as soon as he's trying to get closer to Hezekiah, the mud supports him, pushes him.

He is no longer talking about revenge. They were really good friends once, and even if Nathaniel blames him and fears him, he can't bring himself to hate him. Is it possible that Nathaniel can make him see reason if he pretends to agree with his madness a bit? It’s his last chance to try.

As Nathaniel reaches Hezekiah, the man takes his hand. It's not a firm handshake. Their fingers are intertwined, like children who are also friends, like young ones who are also lovers. His palm is dry and dusty. In his other hand, his right hand, he carries a big shovel that looks heavy and sharp-edged.

"Come with me," says Hezekiah. It might be the last time Nathaniel has a choice. Maybe people would come if he screamed. Or maybe they would be trapped in the mud. Maybe it was all just a test, and if he failed, Hezekiah would kill him.

He tells himself that it's not weakness to pretend to be meek to deceive an enemy, and he follows.

Hezekiah leads him to the graveyard. Of course, he does. Even in the pale light of the moon, Nathaniel can see his tired face.

"Let's dig a grave," he says. "Together."

"I don't have a shovel," Nathaniel objects. He really doubts that Hezekiah will offer him his. Not that he can imagine himself hitting him with it. He can't really imagine himself digging a six feet deep hole either.

"That's true." Hezekiah starts to dig. He's going so fast. He hasn't yet said who it is for, but Nathaniel is certain it is intended for him.. When it’s only two feet deep, Hezekiah looks at him again.

"Just get in. Take a handful of earth and throw it away. You need to understand."

It's not pleasant to step into a grave, even an empty, unfinished one. Of course, Nathaniel thinks, it's natural, it happens to gravediggers all the time... except that it's what changed Hezekiah, what gave him all these terrifying ideas, what made him take someone’s life. If only Nathaniel had known, he would have...

It's done now. And Nathaniel takes this symbolic fistful of dirt, and throws it away.

"Can you feel it?" Hezekiah asks.

All Nathaniel feels is shapeless dread. Too much thereof to come up with a good lie.

"It's a good start," Hezekiah says, still very calm. The grave gets deeper. Nathaniel fears the time when it's six feet deep; he also fears that some other things could happen first.

"You told me you hadn't slept for a long time," Nathaniel says. "You also said you slept better in a fresh grave. Why don't you have a good night of sleep now, and then we'll talk another day." It seems so reasonable, but so ridiculous. As if reason had any place here.

"I’ve slept before," he says, but Nathaniel is not sure when before was. "I care more about you."

"Are you not angry at me?" Nathaniel was disappointed in himself, for how small his voice was, how small the hope in it.

"I am. I want you to be sorry, and apologize."

"I am sorry!"

Hezekiah shakes his head. "No, I want you to mean it. And for this, you need to understand. Join me in here."

Nathaniel hesitates. He feels like a coward, obeying without protest. But he jumps. He can still see outside. The fall was a bit hard on his ankles, nothing serious.

"Get on your knees," Hezekiah orders. And Nathaniel wishes he had found the courage to say no before, not in the shadow of the tomb.

"Why?"

"You wanted to apologize."

Nathaniel isn't sure, but he follows his fear again. "I'm sorry," he says, kneeling. And as he still has principles, he says the truth. "I should have given you a second chance. I should have written to you before. I should have explained to you how wrong it was instead of disowning you."

Hezekiah is stroking his cheek. His touch is soft. Nathaniel didn't expect the softness. The hand leaves dust in its wake.

"You still don't understand," he says. "Open my trousers."

Nathaniel shivers in fear, but there's also a shameful desire in his reaction, or rather the memory of of it. He wondered about what Hezekiah wanted, when they were young. He has thought about kissing him. But he never went so far as to think about these kinds of dirty things.

"We're near the house of God," he protests. "We can't..."

"I can do everything," Hezekiah says. "I have another God now." His hands wrap around Nathaniel's neck and start squeezing, just a bit. He falls short of choking him, but it's a clear threat.

"I'll do it," Nathaniel answers.

He's so nervous, because he hates that he's not upset for the right reasons. He hates that Hezekiah has become a rambling murderer and threatens him now. He hates that Hezekiah forces him to have intimate contact now. He hates that they never tried anything before.

"It's not love," he says again, because it's true. Hezekiah doesn't react to this, or maybe he's squeezing again. Nathaniel opens his trousers, then his drawers. He sees Hezekiah’s half-hard cock, and he feels warm and dizzy and terrified.

Nathaniel wonders if he should do what comes naturally, or if he can just wait. He wonders if he wants to wait.

"Go on," Hezekiah says. It's almost a relief when Nathaniel licks the head of Hezekiah's prick. He can feel the taste of musk under the dust, but his tongue still feels weirdly dry while he's licking and sucking.

And then Hezekiah thrusts, to the back of Nathaniel's throat...

He retches and heaves, trying to recoil, but Hezekiah is holding him firmly. And then he can't stop himself, and he vomits, all over Hezekiah's cock and into his own mouth, and he can't even get it all out, he chokes on Hezekiah's cock and on his own vomit, and he's crying, he can't breathe even with his nose, he will die... He tries to fight, but his position is bad, he can't...

Hezekiah removes his cock, but not his hands, and Nathaniel can only breathe and spit and breathe again. The taste is disgusting in his mouth. 

"You will get used to it," Hezekiah says, so softly, so lovingly, and all the more terrifying. Nathaniel raises his head and can see him smile. "You're doing very well."

But Nathaniel isn't, at all, and even when he has nothing left to vomit he's still choking on Hezekiah's cock, and on his own tears. He feels like he could faint at any moment, and all this time, Hezekiah is praising him with tender words. Every gulp of air he can manage when Hezekiah pulls back is a delightful fragrance, little gasps of life. They make his head spin as much as the suffocation is, allowing him no moment to think, neither in pain nor in relief.

Finally, Hezekiah comes, so deep in his throat that Nathaniel can't even taste it. 

It's not love, he knows it. He's afraid, because it almost could have been.

"Did you call for your God?" Hezekiah asks. "Did you pray?" and Nathaniel shivers. He didn't.

"I don't think he cares about you," Hezekiah says. "Mine would, you know. It would cherish you like I do. We would be equals at last."

Nathaniel gets up, wants to claim that God cares about every soul. His anger turns into terror when he realizes he can no longer see the churchyard. The grave has turned deeper, its edge far above Nathaniel's head, the opening just a small rectangle of moonlight. He feels like they're in the depths of the earth. There is no escape. He violently shivers, falls to his knees again.

"You see," Hezekiah says. "You're starting to understand." He squeezes Nathaniel in his arms, incredibly tight. Nathaniel feels so weak. And now they're falling, and Hezekiah is on top of him, kissing his lips. One of Hezekiah's arms is around Nathaniel's neck, a pillow for his head, the other is between his legs, softly rubbing through the silky nightshirt. Even though his coat is wide open, Nathaniel feels warm as they're lying together.

It's not love either, but it looks like it.

And as soon as Nathaniel has thought this, Hezekiah's body grows heavier. It's -- almost good, at first, this feeling of being held, and it goes to his cock in a way that puts him to shame. But quickly, it becomes hard to breathe again.

It should make him panic. It does make him panic. But the fast beating of his heart and his panting for breath only make the pressure on his cock more manifest, the pleasure impossible to ignore. He tries to thrust his hips, unable to move at all, but Hezekiah seems to rub him harder.

He's still yearning for more pleasure, more touches, when the walls of the grave are starting to crumble.

First it's only more dust in his hair, and Hezekiah's body getting heavier on him, Under the crushing weight, Nathaniel's skin is more alive, more sensitive than ever. Then the earth starts to fall on his face, and he knows that he will be buried here, forever.

"Kiss me," Hezekiah says. "I'm the depths of the earth too, but you can breathe me. Join me."

His mouth is leaving tiny kisses on Nathaniel's jawline, offering him life, love and rebirth. His hand is still weighing on his body, offering release.

And Nathaniel will take none of it. It's not love. Maybe it never has been. He won't listen to his racing heart or his body aching with need. He grinds his teeth, and waits for the end.

Everything around him becomes dark and warm and heavy; soon he will not even feel Hezekiah's crushing arms around him.


End file.
